Turning Over
by Chingu
Summary: D's services are called to take care of a curse long thought as only a legend, but the price to complete this job may be higher than even he realizes. What will D really find lurking in the "dark"?
1. Prologue

**__**

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Hunter, D.

**_This story is actually revamped from its original version. To those of you who've read the other version, I apologize for never getting around to finishing it._**

I got bored with where it was going. So I decided to start over.

And now here's the new version. Good luck.

The long, agonized howl of a wolf man echoed through the still of the night, breaking the uncanny silence that had kept the darkness lifeless. The shrill sound of the beast's cry pierced the forest in all directions, a cry so full of pain and rage that it spoiled the air.

The flicker of a tiny fire suddenly appeared amidst the darkness, casting away a circle of shadows to reveal a dark stranger leaning up against a tree's twisted trunk. He was tall and lean, dressed completely in hues of blue and black, and had blonde hair cut in ragged edges around an elegant face.

He cupped the chrome-lighter in his left hand and raised it to his lips, lighting the end of a slender cigarette with a calm and casual movement, then closed off the lighter with an easy flick of his wrist. As another horrifying scream ripped into the night, the man took a deep drag from his cigarette and let out a slow, curling stream of smoke through his nostrils, the wispy tendrils blowing away from him. He leaned his head back against the tree, closing his eyes as he waited.

It was another ten minutes before the howls and screams finally faded away into nothing more than echoes, sounds of the night that would continue to haunt the nightmares of any who had heard them.

"Finally," the blonde man breathed, wisps of smoke slithering out from his mouth. He pushed himself away the tree and straightened, scanning an area of forest in search of his partner.

A few moments later, another, taller figure appeared from just beyond a cluster of trees over to the north of him, moving so gracefully that his movements seemed unnatural.

"Did you get it to talk?" the blonde man asked his partner as he watched the other man approach him. He sighed in frustration when he saw the slight shake of the head, then took another, longer drag from his cigarette. "Bloody hell," he hissed out.

"Yes," his partner said with a calmer tone, "bloody hell."

But there was something in his partner's voice that made the blonde man turn his eyes to him again, a satisfied---almost content---feel in the way the taller man had said the words. Sensing the blonde man's curiosity, the other man simply chuckled, and purposely stepped out into a shot of moonlight that managed to break through the dense foliage of the forest's canopy.

The light of the moon shimmered down over a dark waterfall of black hair, igniting the man's overly pale skin so that he almost seemed to shine within it. His copper eyes gleamed with delight and gratification, his slitted pupils dilating under the sudden force of the light. Despite the long, black coat he wore, it was easy to see the slender and muscular build of his powerful body, elegant and graceful.

The blonde man's eyes narrowed as he noticed streaks---lines---that had been purposely drawn across his partner's chiseled and artistic face.

The wolf man's blood, the blonde man realized, still wet and fresh and gleaming black from the moon's light. The pale man beamed as his partner shook his head with disgust, chuckling in amusement as his wide grin revealed a dimple denting his left cheek.

"Bloody hell," his partner said again, still smiling---quiet, smooth, and casual.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

The icy chill of the storm clung to the air and frosted the vegetation, encasing everything within icy exoskeletons, making them both brittle and hard, trapping them within a sad limbo of existence that had them neither living or dying. Thick black clouds clotted the evening sky as if to mock the frozen land beneath it, denying it the relief of any light that the sky could provide. They churned with a ravenous wind that breathed a promise of death on everything that it touched, ripping into the earth like icy claws tearing into tender flesh, driving itself in ever deeper so that nothing could escape its wrath. The earth seemed to quiver with the effort to stay in place, but its fight seemed in vain as the wind only cut deeper into its crust, ravaging the land as it fueled the storm, merciless and unforgiving. It seemed that nothing could withstand it, and it would stop at nothing until all had succumbed to its savagry.

But riding through the open plain was a dark figure, a lone rider that didn't seem to notice the storm at all. His black cloak thrashed about in the air around him, billowing as if in a violent dance with the wind as its partner, but his lean body remained motionless and relaxed from beneath it. He studied the storm calmly, taking note of its every detail. Staring. Watching.

As if only now sensing his presence, the wind suddenly picked up in speed and began pounding into the dark rider as if to freeze him as well as his stallion's prosthetic limbs. It seemed to focus only on him, now, the waves of its fury centering around his frame as if to crush him. It seemed to have a mind of its own, howling in its effort to kill, its piercing scream bloody and shrill, appearing like a crushing whirlwind around the stranger and his cyborg, but the two of them moved on without missing a beat, unaffected by the wind's attacks. The stallion was bred and made to weather through the worst of conditions, one of the finest to be manufactured in its time. And its master wasn't like anyone else on Earth.

The stranger allowed the cyborg to plow its heavy body through the tall, frozen grasses as he scanned the land around him, despite the wind's obstruction. He watched as the plants crumbled easily at the touch of the large animal, their ruined bodies shimmering behind it as the cyborg made its way through. And he watched as the wind crushed the rest of the grasses in its cycle of destruction as it continued to lash out at him. He tilted his head slightly back to get a better feel of the air. He could feel the storm's hostility, sense its dark purpose.

It disturbed him. He'd seen many storms in his lifetime, sensed the energies that they were imbued with.

But none like this one.

All storms exuded an energy, just as all things of nature did, but this one . . . this one was different. Its energy was negative and cold, unnatural---completely dead to the senses. This storm wasn't one created of nature.

The stranger lifted his head upward so that he could get a better look up at the sky, his long wavy hair whipping about him as he did so.

Lightning as red as blood began to bleed across its canvas, the lethal blasts cracking and whipping over him, broken and jagged.

And soundless.

No thunder, only the vivid light of the lightning as it broke out in threatening curtains that coated the land in bloody red light with every flash.

"D---" a voice from nowhere suddenly said. There wasn't anyone else around for miles but for the dark rider, but he hadn't said a word. He didn't react to the disembodied voice.

"D," the voice repeated. It sounded nervous. "How 'bout finding a place to wait out the storm, huh?"

D continued to ignore the voice and rode on. "D, c'mon," the voice pleaded. "What's the big hurry? Why should we be pacing ourselves outside in this hell storm? If there was ever a time for you to start paying attention to me, it's now."

"It'll be alright," D suddenly cut in.

"I don't like the feel of it, D," the voice continued urgently. "There's something wrong about this storm. And the way it came . . ."

"Yes," D said quietly, deep in thought. "I know."

"Then you should know that we need to get the hell out of the open!" the voice hissed. "Who knows what could be coming!" A pause. "This isn't like the other times, and you know it. Something's going to happen. We should be more cautious."

There was silence for only a moment.

"I know," D responded again, placidly. When he didn't say anything more, the voice sighed deeply in defeat.

"Fine," it said dejectedly. "You've never listened to me before, why do it now? Damn us both for all I care."

Together, D and the voice-from-nowhere rode on in silence as the storm continued to churn and broil. It wasn't long before it finally began to rain.

The water that fell was as red as the lightning, pouring down in sheets that were hard enough to sting. The bloody water coated everything with its deep crimson of color, disappearing almost immediately as it soaked itself into every fiber of whatever it hit. Each drop felt like a piece of frozen fire burning deeply into D's pale, exposed hands, but he didn't notice the pain. The wounds would heal just as quickly before any real damage could be done.

His cloak and clothes remained intact. A special protective barrier had been cast upon them a long time ago so that they would remain almost completely indestructible under any condition or circumstance.

But the land around him wasn't doing as well.

The plants quickly shriveled as a result of the poison that rained down upon them, even with being trapped within their icy prisons, and the ground itself seemed to corrode before D's eyes. As even the stones began to turn to dust, the wind would pick them up and disperse their ashes into the black abyss above. D could feel the determination behind the storm, of the ominous force pushing it. It was the essence of something evil.

And many innocent people would die before it was finished.

The stallion suddenly stopped, sensing its master's will. It waited coolly as D continued to gaze up at the sky, searching for the eye of the storm, searching for its very center. It hadn't come yet, but D could feel where it was.

"D, what're you doing?" the voice asked nervously. "What, are we getting out of the storm?"

D didn't respond as he unsheathed his sword from its scabbard in one smooth motion. The metal of the blade gleamed as the rain hissed along its surface, unable to penetrate past the sword's outer workings. Without uttering a single word, D called upon the power that lay dormant within him and focused all of that energy into his sword.

The blade radiated with the sudden great power that it held, and the energy swirled along its length, waiting to be told where to go. D pointed the tip of the blade upward, slightly northeast. The eye was over there, exposed and weak. D concentrated the energy in that direction, then released it. It shot out like a bolt of white lightning streaking across the black sky, shooting toward the inviting darkness of the storm's center.

The stallion reared up on its hind legs to help absorb the great force of the energy as it left the sword. D kept his balance easily and continued to hold the sword up, directing the energy toward its target. It disappeared into the distance, becoming nothing more than a star that faded in the dark.

At first nothing happened, and it seemed that the light had been swallowed up by the storm, but then there was a sudden blast of light from where D's energy had vanished. The light spread from its source, working toward the edges of the storm as it was quickly absorbed by the swirling clouds. A great burst of thunder shook everything around them as the negative energy of the storm was purified by D's own.

As the shock of the force began to fade away, the rain of blood became clear and pure, and the earth seemed to sigh with relief as the new rain caressed the wounds left by the old. The storm still remained fierce and cold, but the evil was now gone.

D returned his sword to its scabbard. With a gentle movement of the reins, the stallion began heading south again.

"Always showing off. . ." the voice mumbled under its breath.

****

Vampire Hunter D: "Turning Over"


	2. Prelude to the Storm

The shadows of a storm loomed in the distance, casting its foreboding clouds along the entire length of the horizon. It was far away, still, but it wouldn't be long before it would hit the shallow valley below the foot of the small town, Xoan. Even now, the woman could smell the spicy scent of rain in the air, could feel its ominous energy from the distance.

Her feet were bare against the soft ground so that she could feel the pleasure of valley's fine grass in between her toes, but the normal comfort of the sensation wasn't with her tonight. There was something in the air that unnerved her, something that wasn't quite right.

Drawing in a deceptively calm breath, the woman looked up at the sky above her to gaze up at the white globe of the moon. It smiled back down at her like a heavenly ghost of the night, shining brightly as if to assure her that all would be well. Its light seemed to ward off the storm's malevolence, making the very air easier to breathe.

But then the winds suddenly picked up, bringing an instant chill in the air that was enough to leave ice crystals in the long swaying braids of the woman's white hair. The winds billowed about her as if to remind her of the darkness heading in her direction, like a bad omen looking to instill dread.

The woman firmed her petite frame against the fierce winds and lifted a hand to hold her braids back so that she could look farther into the distance without having them whip into her face. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the black thunderheads rolling her way. They almost seemed to broil with anticipation, spreading across the sky like spilled ink on silk, scarred by the remnants of an evil essence purged from its pulsating mass.

_Something's coming_, she thought suddenly, knowingly.

No, not something.

Someone.

The woman could feel it from the storm, could sense the influence of another, more powerful life force.

_So_, she thought in resignation. _It's finally come to that, has it? I never thought I'd have to face . . . _She closed her eyes, trying to shut the thought out._ Dear God, has this task really fallen upon me?_

As if in answer to her unspoken question, a loud crack of thunder boomed from the distance, rolling in deeply across the land so that she could feel its reverberation thrumming in her chest.

Shaking her head and resigning herself to her long-held truth, the woman turned around and headed back towards the small church. She had much to get ready before it was time.

There was much to be done before _he_ arrived.


End file.
